Week A Day
by Rainstorm Amaya Arianrhod
Summary: Seven people, seven traits, seven days. Sunday: Ron.
1. Monday's Child

**A/N:** My latest totally irresistable, slightly wacky, very peculiar idea, based on the nursery rhyme about days of the week determining the way you were. One day, one drabble, one character. The title is from a British expression meaning everyday; I thought it fit. **Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns everything you recognise, and probably some of what you don't.

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_Monday's child is fair of face._

Ginny Weasley has red hair and pale skin and freckles. Every summer, she stays conscientiously indoors to put on suncream, even while her brothers yell and roughhouse outside in the sun, because of all seven of them, Charlie was the only one who ever took a tan, and Ginny doesn't want her skin to become red, cracked and peeling and itchy.

It's not that she doesn't like sunshine. Yellow is one of her favourite colours, yellow like the sun on a childishly perfect summer afternoon, with red strawberries and green grass and a blue, blue sky, with not even a languid wisp of cloud in sight. She loved the sun, even when she played on her own and had no-one to share her perfect June days with because all her brothers were at Hogwarts or at work. What she didn't like was what the sun could do to her fair skin; turn a long pale nose sore and red, burn her cheekbones, the back of her neck, the sides of her thin arms.

It's a bit like loving Harry. He's the sun, only he doesn't mean to be; he doesn't mean to shine so bright, with Ron as his blue sky, his support, and Hermione his moon, his opposite, and Ginny only one of the hidden stars. He would be horrified to know how it burnt when she knew that he didn't think of her the way she did of him as a ten-year-old, hearts and stars and together forever spiralling across the flimsy pages of her diary.

She used to love the sun so much she would run out in it without a care, so that she burnt painful red, and now she applies suncream.

She used to love Harry so much she would dream without restraint of a life together, so that when her dreams crashed she ached, and now she has grown up.

She knows if she is not careful, the sun (love) will burn her (break her heart) but she loves it (him) anyway.


	2. Tuesday's Child

**A/N:** Luna's turn. I hope you like it, she was the perfect person to write for this prompt. _**Please read and review!**_

**Disclaimer:** Please see first chapter.

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_Tuesday's child is full of grace._

Luna Lovegood was a graceful girl, and now she is a graceful woman. The children who called her Loony Lovegood missed out on that. They only saw the silvery blonde hair, the blue eyes, the cork necklace and the soft Irish accent, and they heard that same soft accent tell them truths they didn't want to hear- because Luna is not only intelligent, she is shrewd. And she knows when something is right, because it conforms to the person or thing she is studying, it fits together as a single flawed individual whole.

Luna Lovegood is not only graceful, she can see grace, and she can speak with grace. She forgave all those who called her Loony in one fell swoop, with a sweet smile that told you nothing more of her than she wanted you to know.

No-one calls her Loony any more. Many, many children in the school recall Luna's gentle voice and soothing hands and the ease with which she helped lift and carry them from the prisons the Carrows had locked them in. She compliments Neville's clumsiness, one long hand swooping round to catch a knocked ornament, rescue a tipped flask. Even the Death Eaters and their unofficial cats-paws could see she was different; she unnerved them as she stood, with a lovely smile for her friends who sat blank-faced with horror, and made them wonder if there weren't something in this _wit_ _without measure_ thing after all if it produces someone with that fluid strength.. "Don't worry, I'll be back with you soon," she told them, and walked out of the train compartment with a straight back, her head held high and an unearthly fluidity of movement.

She was also graceful when she and Harry found Alecto Carrow in the Ravenclaw Common Room, screeching and yowling by the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, and she lifted her wand and coolly Stunned the older woman.


	3. Wednesday's Child

**A/N:** Neville's turn. _**Please read and review!**_

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, except maybe Ollie O'Kelly, poor kid.

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_Wednesday's child is full of woe._

Neville Longbottom has never really had reason to be a cheerful lad. He knows his mother, unlike Harry, but Harry never had the sadness of seeing a woman he knew was once bright and kind reduced to a shrunken shell with little remnant of her gentle prettiness, staring at the rain with tears running down her face, mirroring the silvery drops on the window. He knows his father, unlike Harry, but Harry has the comfortable certainty of being all he ever needs to be to live up to the vivid trail of memories James Potter left in people's minds; Neville, poor, clumsy, Neville, fumbles and stutters and fails to fill the hole left by Frank Longbottom's memory.

When Harry led the DA there were no deaths and hardly any injuries, and those were minor enough for Hermione to patch up with a scolding and a quick spell. When Neville did, Amycus Carrow nearly killed Terry Boot, and Pansy Parkinson tortured Padma Patil halfway to madness. Ollie O'Kelly was killed outright: it was Neville who seized his dead body and carried it away to bury in the middle of the night near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Neville lay in wait for his distraught parents to drag them to the Room of Requirement and tell them how Ollie really died and where he was buried, about Hannah Abbott singing Danny Boy at the wake the DA held for the dead boy. It was Neville who faced their tears. Later it will be Neville who goes back, and gives Ollie O'Kelly a tombstone and his name written in gold by the blue forget-me-nots in the Remembrance Garden.

Neville was not cheerful, but he took on the sorrow and the pain and made it part of himself. Hannah, Harry and Luna have all understood parts of that, but only Neville understands the whole.

With all the clumsy incomprehension he has always shown, he does not realise that that sort of makes him a hero.


	4. Thursday's Child

**A/N:** I couldn't update yesterday, so here's Thursday's anyway. _**Please read and review!**_

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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_Thursday's child has far to go._

Fleur Delacour was always told she would go far. It seemed impossible that she wouldn't, a serious, polite little thing like her, with bright blue eyes, wheat-gold hair and a musical voice. Even if she hadn't been clever, it would have been nigh-on inevitable that she went far.

She grew up wearing the Beauxbatons uniform, which, disobeying all the rules of uniforms everywhere, fit and suited her. She was friendly towards other girls, teachers and Madame Maxime, who loved that this little girl touched with gold was not afraid of her. She received glowing school reports, and every one contained some variation of the words 'Fleur will go far'.

She went to Gringotts, and did well at the work, which wasn't easy. She met and fell in love with handsome, dashing Bill, who supported her right not to be a fool just because she was blonde and female and taught her so much not even Beauxbatons could teach her.

Her mother frowned slightly, and warned her that marriage would ruin her chances of going far; Fleur persisted and told her she knew she'd chosen well. Apolline shook her head and sighed when Bill was mauled by Fenrir Greyback, but Fleur felt that she would stand wand drawn and eyes blazing and duel the whole world one person at a time if it was what she had to do to stay with Bill, to protect him, and she didn't care about going far. Fleur endured Ginny's animosity and Gabrielle's bafflement, and slowly it became Gabrielle who would go far. Bill asked her, a crease between ginger eyebrows, if she minded this at all, and Fleur smiled at him with contentment and maybe just a little secret in her eyes and told him no.

It would be Fleur, not Ginny, who became the next Weasley family matriarch, advising, suggesting, loving and protecting.

Funny thing about the Weasleys. In their respective fields, in the years after Voldemort's final death, they always went far.


	5. Friday's Child

**A/N:** Hermione's turn. _**Please read and review!**_

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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_Friday's child is loving and giving._

Hermione always loved both her boys, and she gave them whatever she could (encouragement, advice, help with homework, birthday presents and the occasional fierce scold) and put up with the other girls' questions about Harry and later Ron. Is he really as brave as they say? Will he sign an autograph for my little brother? Will he go out with me, do you think?

Hermione dispensed answers with a kind smile and politic words, and protected Harry and Ron from all the fans, whose numbers they never fully discovered, and the occasional piece of hatemail. Rita Skeeter, too. Hermione feels a most un-Hermione-like sense of satisfaction when she thinks of Rita Skeeter getting a dose of her own medicine.

She gave and gave and gave, and it was all right when she was a buck-toothed first-year suffering from crippling gratitude for her salvation from the troll, and she enjoyed it as she grew, giving out her love and friendship to others as well, because it made her happy to see them happy. But then she started to wish that Ron wouldn't just treat her as part of the furniture, something to take for granted, and Harry wouldn't look so miserable when she tried to shock Ron out of his wretched complacency. And eventually Ron sorted out the messy tangle of feelings he had for her and she was never so relieved and ecstatic, and he gave her something back. In Malfoy Manor, it was his voice screaming her name that reminded her that she was not alone when Bellatrix whispered otherwise; at Dumbledore's funeral she cried into his shoulder and he held her safe.

She still gives now, to many more people than she has ever done before. Those who don't really know her remark admiringly on the difficult aspects of work in the legal side of Magical Law Enforcement, her youth when she attempted it and succeeded, the effort she pours in to every case.

Those who do smile quietly, or proudly, or slyly, depending on who they are, and say: What do you know? All these years on, and Hermione's still giving.


	6. Saturday's Child

**A/N:** Harry's turn. _**Please read and review!**_

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns all, I am merely small child mucking about in her fictional sandbox, do not sue.

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_Saturday's child works hard for a living._

Little-known fact about Harry Potter: he is an extremely hard worker. Well, perhaps not little-known, but certainly ignored, overshadowed by his bravery and talent and actions as surely as Ron ever was by Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the twins.

He has always worked hard, ever since he was old enough to do little chores for his aunt and uncle. When he was a bit older, he worked hard at school, though he wasn't the cleverest boy in the year and peculiar accidents did happen around him. Even older, he worked at Hogwarts, and did the few chores Molly Weasley would let him do quickly and efficiently. He worked hard to track down Voldemort, and he worked hard to protect the people he loved. Sometimes he got a return, sometimes he didn't, and it didn't seem to matter so long as he thought it was worth it.

There are people who ask, these days, when Harry Potter turns out to be fiercely shy of publicity, so that nobody who doesn't know him really knows what he's up to, what he does to earn his place in the wizarding world's collective heart. This question has been asked so many times that those the questioners expect to answer it merely snort, and roll their eyes. You wouldn't understand, is the underlying message.

Yes, he works hard, and it's worth it. He doesn't need to have a job, the Potter inheritance is enough that they can live very comfortably with neither of them in work, but he really doesn't know what he'd do if he didn't have something to keep him occupied. Go crazy, perhaps? And he likes the feeling of making something a bit more right. A criminal behind bars, where he or she won't hurt anyone else any more. Harry is most careful not to let a miscarriage of justice take place, which takes more work, but is also worth it.

If Harry's hard work stops another Voldemort coming into power, and protects another Harry Potter from a cut-off childhood, he will be well satisfied.


	7. Sunday's Child

**A/N:** Try and remember there was once a meaning for gay that wasn't homosexual, okay? For my sake? Also, if in charitable mood, _**please review**_.

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns all.

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_But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day/Is bonny and blithe and good and gay._

Hermione and Harry are serious individuals by nature, and that's why they need Ron. He laughs and jokes and blasphemes freely when something unexpected happens- and this being Hogwarts, the unexpected is everywhere. He refuses to take everything seriously. Sometimes he doesn't take things he ought to take seriously seriously enough. He laughed when Professor Lupin, meaning nothing funny at all, snapped: "This is serious, Sirius!" He went through Hogwarts receiving groans from Harry, slaps from Hermione and Bat-Bogey Hexes from Ginny for his terrible jokes, but he reckoned it was worth it, somewhere along the line. They didn't smile enough, so he had to make them smile.

There were times when he wondered if it was worth it, this whole kill-You-Know-Who thing. Why did it have to be them? He wasn't in it for the fame, or the glory. He knew that was only reflected from Harry, the Chosen One, and Hermione, the brightest witch in her generation. He did everything for people, for Harry, for Hermione, for his family, not because of the cause, the ideal, the principle of the thing. They mattered more to him than good or bad or anything in between. Maybe some people got a kick out of deciding which side they were on and following it with a passion, but Ron preferred to confine that sort of thing to Quidditch, where it was safer. The only principles in Quidditch, the only good or bad, were not dropping the Quaffle and avoiding the Bludgers. Unless you happened to be a Beater- and they were all headcases anyway.

Headcases, like the people who had principles. They were a good thing in moderation, but hell, You-Know-Who had principles. Gellert Grindelwald had principles. Didn't do anyone else any good, did they?

Ron had read somewhere, or maybe Hermione had told him, that the first thing a principle does is get someone killed. Bugger principles. The only principles he had or needed, he had long ago decided, were to try and do the right thing, try and make others happy, and try not to explode his cauldron, or, worse, his neighbour's, in Potions. Those were quite enough to keep him going.

He saw Harry and Hermione so serious together sometimes, cleverer than he was and working on something tremendously important and life-threatening, and he felt huge affection for them. So grave. Someone had to make them smile. For what good is peace, if you can't have fun?


End file.
